In last month’s review of Preparing the Ghost, I mentioned that you can actually learn facts from some fiction. Below is one such novel, crammed with science. As author Ryan Lockwood wrote in an e-mail, “Hopefully,
most of the biology described in the book is in-line with real-world
scientific data. I want to educate readers to some extent and
encourage them to learn more after they finish the book.”
Why yes, I AM a huge nerd. Lucky for you, most of those notes didn’t make it into this essay.
Below is a ocean
thriller, along the lines of Jaws. (Beast would be a
better comparison, but fewer people have heard of it.) Instead of a
single scary sea monster, though, Below features a huge school
of . . . wait for it . . . Humboldt squid!
I do mean huge. A shoal of one thousand and two hundred (1200) unusually large and aggressive
Humboldt squid travel through the novel together, wreaking bloody havoc
on the California coast.
Is such a massive crowd plausible?
Well, Humboldts are certainly gregarious. Those who fish for them
know that once you find one, you’ve most likely found a boatful.
And scientists have used sonar to spot tremendous aggregations. But these large groups don’t seem to be organized like typical
schools. Instead of phalanxes moving in formation, they're more like very full bars: a lot of squid packed into a small space, each doing its own thing. Groups of up to 40 squid venture out in coordinated
hunting forays, then return to the mass.
Could the whole aggregation migrate
together over a long distance, say from Mexico to California, as
Lockwood’s shoal does? We don’t know. So, in a
novel, why not?
In fact, the fictional Humboldt squid of Below
aren’t nearly as mysterious as real Humboldt squid. We don’t know
what the color changes of real squid mean--but fictional squid
turn white to travel and red to attack. We don’t know why real
squid have photophores--but fictional squid use flashes of light
to blind their prey.
Lockwood’s fictional scientists are
similarly free to indulge their fantasies. Heroine Dr. Val dives to
100 feet without a buddy and attempts to communicate with Humboldt
squid using a flashlight. In real life, making such a dive alone would be idiotically unsafe even without any large
predators in the picture. However, scientists have used deep-diving,
light-flashing robots to study squid behavior. So I can fully
understand Val’s motivation.
Lockwood wrote: “I did take some artistic
liberties (for the first time in my life as a writer) because this
is, in the end, simply a work of fiction. I wanted to keep it based
in reality, but wasn't concerned with getting every detail true to
life. For example, my main squid characters grew a foot or two in the
final version after prompting from the publisher.”
Without a doubt, my favorite piece of
“fiction based in reality” is the reveal of just why these
particular squid are so large and aggressive.
Spoiler alert! Go away if you don’t want to read it.
Shoo shoo
shoo, people who are picky about spoilers.
Still here?
Okay.
The Humboldt squid in Below are
parasitized!
Are there any known parasites that
cause squid to grow abnormally large and
absurdly aggressive, attacking prey (humans) that bear no resemblance
to their usual fare (small fish and shrimp)? Nope! But parasites are
creative beyond belief when it comes to messing with hosts, so as far
as I’m concerned you’re welcome to blame them for almost
anything.
“I wanted to add the parasite twist
to give the squid an excuse for being so aggressive,” wrote
Lockwood, “so that I wouldn't create an anti-squid lynch mob - I
certainly didn't want to demonize a real species.”
It’s an understandable concern. After
all, the legacy of Jaws includes horrific damage to great
white sharks; Peter Benchley himself regretted it and turned conservationist. But this is the 2010’s, and it’s no great surprise that by the
end of Below, the real villain is the environmental havoc wrought by humans.
In real life, there's plenty of havoc. But do I think anything like the scenario
outlined in Below could threaten real swimmers, divers, and
boaters off California with gruesome dismemberment by squid? No, no,
a thousand times no. Is the novel nevertheless an intellectually stimulating and
emotionally provocative work of imagination? Yes indeedy!
P.S. Happy Cephalopod Awareness Days!
